Earl
I didn't answer the call right away.
The phone buzzed on the desk, Dawn's name lighting up the screen, and for a second I just stared at it. My head was pounding... not sharp, not loud, just this constant pressure that made everything feel heavier than it should've been.
I felt empty.
The appointment had taken longer than usual. More tests. More waiting. More doctors speaking carefully, like every word had to be measured so it wouldn't tip me over.
By the time I finally picked up, my hands were shaking.
"Hey," Dawn said, voice soft, like he already knew.
I tried to smile. Failed. "I'm tired."
He didn't rush to fill the silence. "Do you want to tell me about it, or do you just want me here?"
That question alone made my chest tighten.
"I don't know how much longer I can do this," I admitted. The words came out before I could stop them. "I'm so exhausted, Dawn. Not just physically. Everything."
He stayed calm. I could see him sit back, grounding himself, giving me space to fall apart without panicking.
"Today was rough?" he asked.
I let out a humorless laugh. "Every day is rough. I wake up already tired. I go in, they hook me up to machines, ask me if I hear this, if I hear that. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. And when I don't…" My voice cracked. "It feels like failing a test I didn't study for."
Dawn's expression softened, eyes steady on mine. "That's not failure."
"It feels like it," I snapped, then immediately regretted the edge in my tone. "I'm sorry. I just... what if this doesn't work? What if I go through all of this and nothing changes?"
He didn't argue. He didn't promise miracles.
Instead, he said, "Then it still won't mean this was pointless."
I frowned. "How can you say that?"
"Because trying matters," he said gently. "And because you matter. Even if your hearing never gets better than it is right now."
That hit harder than anything the doctors had said all day.
I looked away from the screen, blinking fast. "I don't want to do this anymore," I whispered. "I want it to stop. I want my life back."
"I know baby" Dawn said quietly using one of the endearment he chose himself "Anyone in your position would feel that way."
The room felt too small. Too quiet. I pressed my palm against my ear like that could somehow steady the world.
"I keep thinking," I continued, "maybe I should just… quit. Come home. Pretend this is enough."
Dawn leaned closer to his camera. "Babe, listen to me."
I met his eyes.
"You don't have to decide anything tonight," he said. "Not when you're this tired. Giving up and taking a break aren't the same thing."
I swallowed. "What if I don't have the strength to keep going tomorrow?"
"Then tomorrow you borrow mine," he replied without hesitation. "And the next day, if you still don't have it, you borrow it again."
I let out a shaky breath. "You make it sound simple."
"It's not simple," he said. "It's just one step at a time. You don't have to be brave for weeks or months. Just for tonight."
I nodded slowly. I could do tonight.
"I hate that you have to see me like this," I said. "I feel… weak."
Dawn shook his head. "You're not weak. You're worn out. There's a difference."
The pressure in my chest eased, just a little.
"Stay with me?" I asked.
"I'm here," he said immediately. "As long as you need."
We stayed on the call while I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, Dawn talking quietly about nothing important. Practice. Homework. A dumb joke Derrick had told.
The sound of his voice didn't fix anything.
But it steadied me.
And for today, giving up didn't feel like the only option.